Letter Trilogy
by PrincessIxi
Summary: People pick up habits during wartime to deal with their stress. They may bite their nails, click their fingers or constantly reassemble their weapons. This is how Edward, Alphonse and Jean deal with war time
1. Return to Sender

**Title:** Return to Sender 

**Genre: **Angst

**Paring/s: -**

**Author's Note:** Loosly based of_ My Walking Grave_ **Warnings**; Violence, minor swearing, there is death

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_I'm sending in a formal complaint _

_Yes. I am aware you get a lot of these. Ah yes, and you probably won't even look at this… you'll probably throw it into the fire_

_But I'd just like to tell you and your people this;_

_YOU SUCK!_

-Edward Elric

* * *

"Is.. is this some sort of joke?"

"I'm afraid not."

"A typo? Some error? Humour me here."

"I'm sure you'll fine that everything is in perfect order."

"No. This has got to be a mistake. This _thing_," he waved the sheet of paper in the man's face. "-must of come through a rip in time, because the last time I checked, I'm not even legal enough to drink."

"Fullmetal," quickly loosing what little patience he had, Roy rubbed his forehead. "I'm just the messenger. So stop prattling round my face, and get out of my office." Most of the Colonel's words wafted over the blonde's head, as he collapsed in the leather chair behind him, putting his face in his hands.

"Shit," he muttered, slowly re-reading the document on his lap. "… shit," not being able to find a better word to express himself, he ran a hand through his bangs, pulling strands out of his once neat plait. A small silence, then Edward tipped his head backwards and groaned loudly. Roy slammed his fit down on the table, making him jump.

"If you won't leave, then I'll be more than happy to escort you to my window, Fullmetal. If your so against this, you can take it up with somebody higher than me, other wise we're done here," he growled, dragging what looked like a whole tree's worth of paper towards him. "In case you've forgotten, I'm heading to the front lines as well."

"But you're old!" Edward yelled, making violent hand gestures. "Your life's pretty much over, Mustang, and I'll be damned if you're gonna get laid anytime soon."

A few nerves had been hit there, but Roy tried to handle it the best he could. Which involved totally loosing his temper. He stoop up, the chair grating on the wooden floor. "Hold your tongue, Fullmetal. Now get out!"

"No!" he yelled back, the paper screwed up in his fist. "It's not fair! What about Al? How the hell am I supposed to leave him, how can I do that to him?" his face contorted painfully. "And, God help me I never thought I would say this, I'm still a _child_."

Roy palmed his forehead, looking up at the ceiling with a pensive look. "I know," he said finally. "Unfortunately, you signed that way when you joined the military. Not only is your rank Major, you're a State Alchemist. Either of those guaranteed a ticket for you. I'm sorry. I can't help you."

"Your not sorry. I'm sure you'll be glad when my guts are splattered across the pavements. Then who'll be laughing," he sneered when his cola eyes left his face. There was a small knock on the door, and Lieutenant Havoc stuck his head round.

"Interrupting, Sir?"

"No. You're just in time to show Mr Elric the door," Roy said tartly, nodding at Edward to show that the discussion was very much over. Edward turned his nose up, and stalked over to Havoc, who opened the door a little wider.

"Your wrong, Mustang," the blonde threw over his shoulder. "I lost my childhood the moment I tried to bring my mother back to life."

Havoc shut the door with a sharp snap.

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_Further more, you can go about changing a few things. If a homunculus shoots a kid, let's not start a war over it. Just reason with him. I'm sure he'll understand what he did was wrong_

_Thankyou_

-Edward Elric

* * *

"Hi, nii-san! Welcome-"

"Going to bedroom," Edward cut across him. Edwards loud footsteps were heard, then the harsh sound of the door being slammed.

"-home?" Alphonse watched his progress with worried eyes. It wasn't that abnormal to see Edward in a bad mood after a call in from Roy. However, normally Edward would rant about it for a while, then go sulk in his study until Alphonse called him for dinner.

With a sigh, Alphonse threw down the tea towel he'd been using to wipe his hands with, and followed after his brother. Time to do what he did best. Being Edward's consultant. "Nii-san?" he called through the closed door, deciding to try the polite approach. Not surprisingly, silence was his answer. He turned the brass handle, finding it locked. Damn. He knew buying personal locks for their rooms was a bad idea.

"Nii-san, open up," he sighed. He was like a moody kid sometimes. "Come on. Don't make me break it down, because you know I can," he growled, resting his head on the wood. Still no reply. Alphonse back up, found the weakest point of the door, and lashed out. The lock broke clean off, and the door smashed to the floor, a bolt flying off the now broken hinges.

Edward was lying on his bed, automail arm covering his face like he was blinded by light. His other hand was limp as it dangled off the bed, a badly crumbled sheet of paper between his fingers. He hadn't even flinch when the door had caved in. The pose reminded Alphonse of some sort of puppet that had been tossed in the corner, and left to gather dust.

"Edward?" he asked quietly, his hands sinking down into the bed as he lent on it. His brother raised the metal to peer up at him, then flopped his arm back down, which must have hurt judging by the clank. The younger crawled across the bed, and sat by his head. Alphonse was almost falling off. It wasn't made for two people. He lifted his arm to speak to his brother's face, but Edward stubbornly looked away from him.

"Edward," Alphonse gritted his teeth. "Stop being so-" he was silenced as Edward brought his flesh arm up, and thrust the piece of paper under his nose. He read it; frown lines growing deeper the further down he read. Slowly, his expression changed to disbelieve.

"I.. I don't understand," he said, voice hardly audible. "You're going to war?"

* * *

Edward appealed.

Each time he did, he never won.

He would be shipped out to the front lines and fight for his so called country.

Saying goodbye to Alphonse had been horrible. He was still a civilian, and was unable to follow Edward. Edward himself had flat out refused anyway. Seeing the army vans had pretty much sealed his fate. The ugly things had camouflaged canvas stretched taunt to the truck sides. Already, men were crammed into the small space.

Edward hated the way Alphonse wouldn't stop crying, and he himself wasn't able to. Replaying every God damn thing that had happened to him still didn't start the waterworks. Alphonse knew, just like everybody else, that Edward Elric would not come back alive.

Alphose had clung onto Edward like his life had depended on it. Edward had rocked the larger boy, like he'd used to when they were small and they were frightened of thunderstorms or noises outside. Slowly, Edward had kissed every part of Alphonse tear streaked face that he could reach, wanting to remember what comfort would feel like in a few months from now. Smell, touch, taste, he wanted everything.

"Smile for me."

That was what made Edward break down. Where he was going, nobody would be smiling.

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_It's been a week already. I'm scared of how fast the time goes, because I can never tell. It's always dark out in these frozen lands. Sometimes we can see the stars if the fighting hasn't been so bad. But not the sun_

_I asked one of the men who we were fighting. He said to me_

'Does it matter? After a while, they all look the same'

_I wasn't sure what he was talking about back then. Now I know. It's horrible. Everyday all I see are gun shots and explosions. The air is never clear out here, even with the frosts. I've never been directly involved with the shooting, I use Alchemy to build up defence. I dread the day I have to go out into the field _

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_I hate this lifestyle. Our bunkers need to hold over thirty men, yet are only big enough for eighteen. I think I'll go insane if I don't get my personal space. Sleeping outside is a death trap; the frosts have given many men frostbite. That's the only thing I'm thankful for with my automail_

_Speaking of them, I find it harder and harder to move the joints each morning. The mechanic says it's the cold. I have to wash it clean with water each morning, then again at night. If my limbs give out on the field, I'm dead_

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_I sometimes can't tell whose on my side anymore. We all wear the navy uniforms, but some of our enemies discards their old clothes and take our men's_

_Today a man came up to me, wearing our uniform. He was asking me to kill him. He looked half-insane. His pupils were dilated, and red. What looked like a bullet hole was in his shoulder. He was covered in blood_

_Ugh_

_I hate how I can write this all down and not throw up_

_Either way, I still freaked out. I'm not proud of that. I ran away from the guy, leaving him to what ever fate. I think Havoc found me later on, I can't remember. He told me I was in an abandoned building, in the lower basements, looking like I was trying to rip my hair out. I'm thankful that he understood_

_I don't think I can survive much more of this_

-Edward Elric

* * *

Dear Sir or Madam

_It's been a whole month. I can't believe it. The war is a strong as ever. I can't see how so many people just keep appearing day after day. Our army doesn't even have an objective. It's just kill or be killed._

_The air is never quiet anymore. I'm finding I'm loosing sleep over the cries at night. Nobody shoots at night ( apart from raids ) but I can hear people… things.. moving about, near our camp, crying out for loved ones, or screaming in agony. Sometimes our men go outside, but they never come back. We're starting to think they just trick us into coming out to see if we can help._

_The quieter parts are early morning. I find myself staring out over the horizon, trying to see the sun. I'm starting to forget what the sun even looks like. I can't remember what it even feels like on my skin Everyone looks horrible. Malnourished and with lack of sunlight, everyone's skin is yellow, pasty, sunken in. It's like we're walking skeletons. An army of the undead._

_In my darker times, my mind flicks back to my little brother. I try hard not to think about him, it's like a constant ache in my chest. Then I perform badly on the field. I want to come back alive. But I'm so inexperienced, it's not going to happen_

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_I've been put out where the intense battling is_

_I can't handle it_

_Everywhere I turn, people are dying. Blood has become the ground I walk on, the sky I look up to. I've never realised how much blood can come from on human. Or how many ways I can kill a person. Or that humans are stubborn creatures, who just won't die sometimes_

_A man clutched at my leg the other day, and I screamed and repetitively hit him over the head with my automail, as I wasn't thinking straight. Even after ten blows, he was still breathing and speaking. His head was like a smashed pumpkin. Blood, tissue matter, it was erupting like a flower around his skull. The actual skull was caved in, and I could see parts of his brains. God's knows how many times I threw up _

_I was finally dragged away by Roy, who burnt him alive_

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_It's just getting worse _

_I thought I would get used to it _

_But I can't I don't go out of my way to kill people, like Scar did. God help me_

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_I've never believed in God. And now I'm even surer. A God would never let this happen. Let humans fight one another over something so pointless_

_I'm starting to hope that I will just die, and let it all end_

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_A raid attacked our camp last night. A lot of men died. I'd like to say that I helped_

_Instead I stood in the middle of the fighting, almost waiting for a stray bullet to cut me down. I can't believe how stupid I can be sometimes. Alphonse would of killed me instead if he'd found out. We if he does know, or is reading this now, you know that I'm a pretty crap big brother_

_In fact, I did get hit by two bullets. But they never touched me. Roy took them instead, and died because of it_

_Yeah. That's right. Fucking Roy Mustang died because of my stupidity_

_I hope you're all pleased, you bastards. You sent us to war, so you can choke on it now! _

_I'll be fair. That man did not want to die. Mostly because I wouldn't let him. The bullet was lodged somewhere in his throat, up behind the mandible I'd guess-_

_Wait… sorry I had to get some fresh air. Why is it so natural to talk about death in letters?_

_Yeah well anyway, the fighting was dying down around this point; most of the rebels had been gunned down. Roy had gone into a state of shock. I think the pain was to great, so his body was naturally shutting down. I suppose it would have been kinder if the bullet had killed him straight away_

_Roy was basically drowning in his own blood. The bullet wouldn't let the blood out, so it was flooding into his mouth. I'd learnt it was bad to move people when their injured, and very dangerous if I moved the bullet. By the time the paramedics had come, he was already dead. I'd got rid of the most of the blood ( you don't wanna know what I had to do, trust me ) but his body just wouldn't cope under the strain. If we had better conditions and medical supplies, he would have survived _

_Shit. I think I'm gonna thr-

* * *

_

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_Havoc and Hawkeye.. there taking it pretty badly. They were both close to the Colonel. I don't think I've seen two more broken people in my live. I guess that's what me and Al must have been like when our mum died _

_I feel horrible_

_Roy died for me, what the hell was I thinking? _

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam _

_You know when I said I was feeling horrible? I'm sick. Like, badly. I can hardly write straight I'm shaking so much. I feel hot and cold at the same time, I just want to curl up and die_

_Medical supplies are non-existent; I have to sweat my fever out_

_It's fucking agony. I've gone off food, we have no water to spare, and I'm always dehydrated. When I close me eyes, flies swam over my face. I'm being bitten alive by bugs. I'm surprised they can survive the cold. I've been shut off from my usual bunker, and sleeping in the women's. Hawkeye's looking after me, God bless her_

_Though she needs to look after herself too. Seeing her walking around like a ghost scares me. Where did all her confidence and fiery temper go? It probably went the same place mine did _

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_Hawkeye thinks I'm crazy, because I keep on writing to you. Sometimes, I forget whom I'm even writing to. So who ever finds these, I hope you're happy with what war does to people_

-Edward Elric

_

* * *

Dear Sir or Madam_

_Fever broke an hour ago_

_I need food, but everytime I eat, I just throw it back up. What's wrong with my body_

-Edward Elric

_

* * *

Dear Sir or Madam_

_Riza.. she died today. I'm still in shock. When she didn't come into the bunker, I knew what had happened. They didn't have to tell me_

_Me and Havoc, we're falling apart at the seams_

_He knows that good soldiers shouldn't get emotions over deaths. We're not soldiers. We're human _

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_I hate war. Hate what it does to you. Hate what it does to other people_

_I just can't stop crying_

_I really thought that all this would have made me harder. Instead it's just made me weaker than ever. It's terrible what war does_

_I don't think I can made myself stronger, then I'd changed into a person I don't like. Having these feelings still means I'm me, not a thing that grows to hate life. But I've gone beyond help_

_I'm writing letters to nobody_

_It's the thing that keeps me stable, knowing that I'm here, I'm still me. If I stopped, then I'd loose it completely. _

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Dear Sir or Madam_

_They're thinking of sending me home. I just can't take this anymore. And they're starting to see that now_

_A sixteen year old isn't made to be an ultimate weapon after all_

_I can't wait to go back home. To see a normal everyday street. Work in a boring office. Walk into a park, see the children playing, see something normal. And to see Al again. Just to be able to hold my baby brother again, that's all I ask. To feel warm and safe again, and know that everything's okay, I have someone to lean on and love _

-Edward Elric

* * *

_Shit_

_Who am I kidding?_

_I can't go back. I'm too far gone. It will never be the same again if I go back_

_Someone save me_

-Edward

* * *

_To Whom It May Concern_

_On the day he was discharged to go back to civilisation __Edward Elric __was killed. His death came about when he walked out into the camp clearing, and a hidden rebel shot him through the heart, killing him instantly _

_God have mercy on his soul_

…

_-_Anonymous

* * *

**END**

**-Ixi**


	2. Wrong Address

_People pick up habits during wartime to deal with their stress. They may bite their nails, click their fingers or constantly reassemble their weapons. Alphonse buys a dog._

* * *

Alphonse had brought a dog.

Most of his neighbours were shocked, as he was such a cat person. But something had told him he needed a dog.

Dog in question was the runt of the litter, had floppy ears and a long wheat coloured coat with dark golden eyes. Her nature was very placid, and whenever Alphonse moved about, she would follow behind him, tail thumping. Whenever Alphonse sat, she would flop her head down on his stomach, wanting attention, which would make him grin and attack her head with pats.

Her name was Honey.

And Honey knew that something was wrong with her master.

A few times a day, in the rare moments she left his side for water or fresh air, she would find her master staring wistfully out the window, or sitting on top of the spare bedroom bed glaring at the opposite wall. Honey didn't know whose bed it was. She could faintly pick up a scent very similar to her masters. The person who owned this scent had never entered their house for as long as Honey had lived there.

When he got like this, Honey would whine, and tug at his sleeve, like she was trying to drag him out of deep water. Or a nightmare he couldn't escape from.

This disturbing behaviour had stared a few days ago, when a stranger had visited them from out of the blue. He had worn a crisp blue military uniform; Honey recognised it, as they owned some of them in the wardrobe up stairs, had messy blond hair and smelt strongly of gunpowder and cigarettes.

He'd given her master a salute, but her master had smacked his hand away from his forehead, and thrown his arms around him. They'd then fallen backwards, down the front steps from his momentum.

"Honey, this is Second Lieutenant, Havoc," her master had informed her, grinning from ear to ear. Honey had wagged her tail a little nervously at the stranger. She had picked up some very intense emotions coming off from him, which were making her very nervous. She could feel his heart drum out of beat, and he seemed stressed for some reason.

Finally, Havoc relaxed just slightly when he'd handed over a thick bundle of yellowing, muddy papers. They were all bound together with thick string. Honey could smell a very sharp and tangy flavour wafting from them. She growled slightly. Then, Havoc had handed a fresher envelope to her master.

When he'd opened it, he'd gasped loudly, and started to shake violently, making Honey whined anxiously. She nosed at his hand and licked it to give him comfort. Alphonse's hand had found her scruff, and gripped it tightly. She had tried not to yelp in pain.

When Havoc had tried to get closer, she'd growled viciously, knowing that it was him who'd caused her master's great distress. "Alphonse, is there a reason why you got a Golden Retriever?"

"No, not really," he had whispered into her fur, pulling her up so she was half on his lap and half off.

"I think you do," and with that, he'd never come back.

* * *

Honey slowly wagged her long tail to and fro, watching her master cook. It smelt of rich meat, making her mouth water. He was working over the oven, pan handle dangerously far over the edge as he lent to turn up the heat.

Then it all turned wrong.

When he pulled back, his elbow nudged the handle, and knocked it to the ground. It hissed when it came into contact with the cold tiles. Honey leaped backwards with a startled bark. Her master was on the ground, watching the grease trickle across the ground with wide eyes. Cautiously, Honey padded over to her master, head low and afraid. She smelt hurt on him, and saw his hand was swollen. She gently took it in her jaws and licked it, to rub away the pain.

Suddenly, her master grabbed her tightly, and she _wulfed_ in surprise. She was crushed against his chest, and she went limp. "Oh… Honey. What am I going to do?" he asked her, and felt dampness on her fur. She lifted her muzzle, brushing his cheek and flicked her tongue out, tasting salt dripping down his cheeks.

* * *

Honey whined loudly, growing worried. She pawed at the door, then scratched at the bottom leaving deep marks. Her master would scold her for that, but her master hadn't come out yet! She started to bark, furious.

"Wulf! Wulf!!"

Why didn't he answer her? She rammed her body into the door, hurting her shoulder. Pausing, she sniffed loudly at the bottom of the door. She smelt something sharp and tangy, reminding her of the yellowing letters Havoc had given him. She panicked. Snapping and snarling, she bit at the door, until her gums started to bleed.

Honey raised her self onto her hind legs, and pushed at the door's brass handle but it clattered uselessly at her claws.

"WULF!"

The door finally opened. Her master stood in the door way, shivering slightly. Whining, Honey jabbed her nose at his stomach, smelling that strange scent all over his body. She licked his fingers, tasting blood on them. She glanced up at him. He looked back, eyes frightened. "Sorry, girl," he said gently, bending down to her level, and looking at her mouth. "Oh. You hurt yourself. Let's clean you up."

Before he shut the door behind himself, Honey got a good look at the room. She could see smears of blood all over the bath tub and sink. Then the door closed firmly on her nose.

* * *

"Hello, Alphon- oh, who's this?" Another stranger. But this time, they were the ones doing the visiting.

They had travelled by train, her first time, and had arrived sometime later in a whole new place. Honey had stuck her nose into everything. Even her master was slightly cheerful. Which made her happy too.

"This is Honey, Sensei," he smiled, giving her a pat on the head. This Sensei person smelt strongly of meat so she wagged her tail vigorously and licked her hand.

"Well well. And here I thought your were a cat person!"

"Sensei, did you receive a letter?" her master asked, voice jumping. The happy mood plummeted, making Honey anxious. Slowly, unsurely, the woman nodded her braided head, looked to her right and rubbed her upper arm.

"I've always hated the State," she snarled, looking murderous. She then quickly turned away from them, shoulder shaking ever so slightly. "I've set up your room," she said in an airy voice, but Honey picked up her salty tears with her nose. "Make yourself at home."

* * *

A few days later, Honey found herself standing in a well used court yard. There were many footprints in the soft dirt, and large scratched on the bricks scattered haphazardly around them. Her master was staring up at the old building, the same far away look he seemed to get more often nowadays back on his face.

He then took off, striding purposefully into the building.

Honey trotted after him, excitedly sniffing at the ground. She caught very, very old scents. Some human scents, but a lot of animal scents as well. Most she didn't recognise, but she picked up dog.

Soon, they entered an under ground basement, filled with crates and old bits and pieces. Eagerly, Honey sniffed at a corner, picking up a broken smoking pipe in her teeth. She noticed there was an old lighter in the shape of a rectangle with words scribble on it. She couldn't read though. She strutted over to her master to show off her find.

Her tail slowly stopped wagging. Her master was bent double on the ground, looking at something. Curiously, Honey looked over his shoulder. His pointing finger was slowly tracing a chalk smelling drawing on the ground. It looked like a double ringed circle, with a triangle stuck in the middle.

She gave his spine a sharp prod, and he turned around, smiling sadly. "What you got there, girl?"

Honey wulfed, showing off her catch, glad to see her master was animated once more.

* * *

"Well, dog, looks like it's just you and me," the woman whom his master called 'Sensei' said, hands on hips. Honey waggled her tail nervously. Sensei seemed nice, but was very stern.

"Yours owners been pretty down, huh?" she chatted away, as they sat together in the sun, Sensei doing some needle work on her lap. Honey put her nose on her knee to have a look. Sensei gave her a prod on the nose with the sharp side of the needle telling her to stop being so nosey. Honey grumbled.

"Has he done anything silly while he was in Central?"

Honey whined softly, cocking her head.

_Yes. He had._

"What about hurting himself then? Alphonse seems to be sensible enough to not do that."

She growled lowly, flicking her ears back.

… then why is he continuing to hurt the same place on his hands with a knife each night? I can smell hurt on him and blood but he doesn't show signs of pain

"This is ridiculous, I'm talking to a dog," she sighed to herself, stretching her back with a pop. "What a horrible world we live in," Sensei said quietly, dropping her needle work and reached for Honey. "This is all that stupid bastard's fault," she growled, more to herself. Honey pricked her ears, eyes shining with intelligence. "What?" she asked.

Honey thumped her tail on the pavement.

"You don't know who I'm talking about, girl. Though I doubt you'd like him that much. Your other owner certainly didn't."

Sensei sighed wearily, stroking her head in long rhythmic pats. "What am I going to do, girl?" she asked Honey. Honey whined. Lots of humans liked to ask her this question. "I've already lost two children. I can't loose another."

* * *

Again they moved on.

On the train ride to the new place, Honey felt sick.

When they opened the carriage to let her off the train, she couldn't move. Her master came rushing in, looking tearful. She lifted her head, and thumped her tail, licking his hands as if to say _I'm okay, silly. _

Her master put her inside a crate, and hefted her up, lugging her to their destination.

Honey pricked her ears, when she heard loud barking. The thud of paws, and she was placed on the ground. She felt the energy to lift her head out of the box. A black and white dog was prancing around her master, and she felt a stab of jealousy. She growled at him.

"Easy girl!" her master laughed, a rare sound. "This is Den. Say hello."

Reassured, Honey carefully hopped out of the crate, feeling better. She guessed she must have been feeling train sick before. She sniffed Den, who looked curiously at her. Then she heard shouts from the house they were outside of.

"Granny! Granny! Ed's back. It's Ed," the door bagged open, and Honey scented the girls happiness before she came in view. She felt her master freeze beside her, and she pressed herself against his leg for comfort.

"Oh," the girl stopped short, seeing the three of them. Her face slowly dissolved and a fresh wave of sadness came off her, stunning Honey. "Oh… oh Al," she whimpered, coming up to him. "I thought… maybe."

She wobbled for a second, then fell to her knees, clutching the hem of his clothes, sobbing and pushing her face into his stomach. Slowly, her master stroked the top of the girl's head, looking like someone had taken a sword, and stabbed him through the heart.

* * *

"Here, Honey!"

With a slightly forced smile the girl, called Winry placed down a dish of sweet smelling liquid. Honey sniffed it, then stuck her nose up.

"Ah!" Winry blinked in shocked. "Den really likes this brand…"

Her master chuckled from the kitchen table; crook of his knee propped up on his thigh. "She doesn't like milk."

"Eh?" the girl turned, looking even more startled. "That's odd. Just like-"

CRASH!

All three jumped, and quickly turned to see who made the racket. Honey smelt the dusty smell of Granny Pinako. It seemed she had knocked over a few books and folders as she'd swept the room.

"Pardon me," she said in her raspy voice, swiftly picking them up.

"I'm going for a walk," her master said suddenly, standing up. "Honey, stay with Winry. I'll be back for dinner."

Once he was out the door, Honey padded to the window, and looked out. She could make out the slouched figure of her master, walking down the dirt path. She hoped he would be okay. "Granny," she heard Winry whisper behind her furry back. "I'm worried about Al. He seems so distant."

Pinako sat, her old body tired. "Give him time, my dear. He's had a great loss."

"Not just that. What about," Honey felt all eyes on her. She turned around; annoyed they were talking about her. She wulfed, warning them. Winry put her hands on her hips, having a sudden idea. "What are you looking so annoyed about, you _little bean sprout_?!"

"**WULF WULF**!" Honey growled dangerous, bearing her teeth at Winry. Honey hated to be acknowledged by her small size.

"You just raised your voice at her, that's all," Granny said, determined not to be persuaded. Winry just shook her head, and gave Honey a frightened glance.

* * *

At night, Honey was disturbed. She felt a dip in the bed, and she growled softly in warning. She made out the figure of Winry in the darkness. She was at the head of the bed, while Honey was at the bottom, warming her master's feet.

"Shuu! I'm not going to steal him away from you, you jealous little-"

Suddenly, her master stirred slightly, rolling over and parting his mouth, murmuring. "Hm- nii-san?"

Honey felt Winry sadden slightly, and gently shook her master's shoulder. "No, Al. It's me."

"W-winry?" he slurred, sounding confused, staring up at her with hazy eyes. Honey sat up quickly when Winry told him to shuffle over. Rather reluctantly, he did. With three in the bed, things definitely got cosy fast.

Honey slithered up, and settled beside her master, squashed between him and the wall. She thumped her tail good-naturedly when he got told to move back down and she refused. Her master gave her a tug, and Winry let over and attacked her side. She both snapped at them playfully, still refusing.

Finally, they gave up.

"Al, you should start growing out your hair again," Winry said, rather suddenly. Honey sensed her master stiffen and whimpered slightly.

"Winry, don't-" he began, sounding bitter.

"Alphonse, you do it too, I can see it," she cut across, pushing up with her arms, and looked down at him. She then looked right at Honey, and she quivered for a second. "It's not healthy."

"Your wro-"

"No! I'm right. Look at her!" She raised her voice, and Honey sat up, looking dangerous. "Her fur and eye colour. I've never seen a dog before with such golden eyes. And Honey's nature and her little habits, it's just not ri-"

"Shut up!" Just as suddenly, her master sat up, and swung at her. The blow sent Winry to the floor, and she gasped, holding the side of her head. "Get out."

Shakily, she got to her feet and left, a few wavering _hics_ escaping her.

Honey whined softly, frightened at her master's sudden attitude change. His own eyes were wide, like he wasn't quite sure what had just happened. Slowly, he brought his hands up, and around to the back of his neck, drawing himself into like a hedgehog, shivers running across his body. Honey whimpered, nudging him uncertainly.

He grabbed for her, and clutched her madly, making her whimper again. "Honey… Honey. You won't leave me, will you?" he asked, voice wavering out of control. "You're a good girl," he said softly, planting a soft kiss on her head, stroking her chest. She sniffed at his hair, tasting his familiar scent. "You'll never leave my side."

In a trance like state, her master stood up, and fell to the ground, searching for his suite case. He pulled it up, and opened it. He disentangled two thick ropes. He stood, then motioned for her to follow.

Climbing onto the bed, he hoisted himself up, then Honey out the window. They crept across the deck, Honey pausing to smell the night air. It was crisp and clean, tainted by the fear and silent resolution coming off her master.

Quite soon, they reached a place that reminded her of Havoc. It smelt of something burning. The ground was dead, like it wasn't able to grow things here. Beside that, was a blackened tree. Her master glanced at the remains of whatever it used to be. He smirked.

"Very fitting. It started here, now it will end here."

He climbed the tree. Honey followed, worried now. The fear was replaced by something else now. In fact, she couldn't sense her master at all. It was like his mind was slowly slipping, and she couldn't reach him. He tied the rope firmly to the tree, then made a loop near the end. In the darkness, it looked like a giant collar.

He jumped down, and come up to Honey, holding the second rope. He tied one end to the trunk. The rest went around her neck. There was hardly any left, and her chest was pinned flush to the tree, the rope digging uncomfortably into her neck. She squirmed, not liking it. As soon as she wriggled, the rope tightened.

"Shhuu," she master breathed, his breath blowing into her ear, but it didn't calm her down. He then left her. His heat vanished, and she never saw him again. She heard him though. His nails scrapping on the bark as his climbed. The weight shifting from the main truck to the slim branch. More shuffling. Then he jumped, and a huge weight pulled on the branch.

Then there was silence.

Frantically, Honey tugged on the tight rope, as it burned into her skin. The more she struggled, the more it tightened. She couldn't breath!! Wailing silently, she thrashed to and fro, desperate to see her master. To make sure he was alright. Her muzzle was damp from a foam like substance that she was bringing up from her churning stomach. Her whole body was on fire. She couldn't breath. Her vision was getting worse. She couldn't feel her paws, her lower body, her chest, her-

Then everything went cold.

Everything went dark.

Nothing.


	3. Not Known

_People pick up habits during wartime to deal with their stress. They may bite their nails, click their fingers or constantly reassemble their weapons. Jean has Envy_

* * *

It felt odd being in the office.

Nothing had been touched. Nothing was missing, or added. The only difference was the name plaque on the desk had been changed.

The ghosts of the dead seemed to press down and around Jean, as his eyes wandered listlessly around the room. The room should have been blown up, or cut off from the Base. It felt incredibly wrong to be using a room that now rightfully belonged to a dead man.

Jean now walked with a permanent limp; some little shit had come at him with a dulled blade, and severed some ligaments in his leg. He had a walking stick, for when the pain got to unbearable. Jean knew he was no spring chicken, but with the added frown lines and knocks and now _this_ from the war, he felt even older.

Some of his officers had said _don't worry, sir. You just look refined/dignified _or whatever other phrase that they choose to use. Jean wasn't an idiot.

Sighing, Jean sank down into the thick leather backed chair, swivelling around to face the wall length windows. A few sparrows were pecking around on the window sill. The hazy memory of Roy leaning over to throw down bread crumbs, then turning bright red when Jean had caught him. He'd then threatened to strip Jean off all his ranks if he didn't keep his mouth shut. Frankly, he didn't see what the big deal was at the time.

The light flooding into the office was blinding. Jean finally appreciated to why the office was set out like this. With the desk backing to the windows, the light from behind would illuminate whoever was behind the desk. It was symbolic really.

Jean rubbed at a scorch mark on the desk. This had been from when Edward had appealed to get some time off, then stolen off with Roy's paper work when he'd refused, which had caused the man to shot a spark at Edward. It had missed and hit the desk instead.

There came a tentative knock at the office door. "Yes?"

Kain put his head round, looking nervous. If the kid had been jumpy before, he was worse now. A whole year out on the battlefront hadn't done him much good. He snapped to a salute when Jean acknowledged his presence.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Jean despised all the formalities he had to go through. It felt stuffy and uncomfortable.

"Colonel, I brought these for you to fill out. The government still wants a full report on what happened to Major General Mustang. As you're the only living witness. The only other is dead," Jean couldn't help the weary look he put up, as he grasped the thick wads of paper from Kain.

Filling out the death notices were tiresome and painful.

They were going through hundreds per day. Jean had purposely put off doing Roy's, more for his own benefit than his family's.

He had written off Colonel Elric's as soon as they had touched back down to Central. He had even personally delivered it to Alphonse, something soldiers tried to avoid. He'd been greatly disturbed of Alphonse' lack of emotion, not that he wanted the kid to start throwing things across the room and scream bloody murder. Jean also didn't think very highly of the dog he had adopted either. He knew why he had got her; she resembled his lost brother in a way. Her small body, large golden eyes and red collar and she seemed to have this _air _about her, which Jean recognised as similar to Edward.

Jean didn't believe in reincarnation. It was just a coincidence.

Jean waved Kain away. As the door shut with a clunk, Jean sank tiredly back into the leather backed chair, throwing the papers away from him like it was a live grenade. He shut his eyes.

There had been so much _blood. _

He was very much aware of how much a person could bleed, but he didn't enjoy stabbing people through the neck to find out first hand. And the bullet had stuck in his jugular. There had been more blood than there was Roy.

And Edward.

Yes, Jean reopened his blue eyes, rubbing his brow in an irritated fashion. Edward didn't want that man to die that was for sure. He knew it was Edward's fault, as much as the kid did. At his grave, Edward had clung onto Jean, one of the last threads he had to hold onto saying over and over "I'm sorry I'm sorry!"

Jean's hand shook ever so slightly as he scribbled down the date, time and cause of death.

* * *

Jean slumped further down in his seat, instead if feeling better, he felt worse. Bingeing was the best way of saying **WOE IS ME** in the loudest voice possible. He downed the rest of his nursed drink, the bartender magically appearing to refill it. He muttered something about "Whoa there," and Jean only grumbled in answered, deciding they could treat him with respect of being a war veteran for once.

His thoughts wondered over to the other Elric boy.

He prodded his finger round the ring the cup has made. He hadn't seen the kid since he'd given him those letters. Jean himself hadn't looked at Edward's letters, deciding he was insane enough as it was. Maybe Alphonse had gone away. He was sure he had foster family somewhere.

Jean propped his arms up on the bar, resting his head on them, feeling pleasantly sleepy. The loud sounds around him acted as darkness, the warmth of bodies and open fire as a blanket.

"You okay sir?" the bartender asked, rubbing at the bar with a rag.

"Hm? Yeah. Just thinki-"

He broke off, glancing over his shoulder, feeling eyes on him. In the far corner, illuminated by the fire sat an adolescence surrounded by young men and women. The boy wore a dark traveller's cloak, blending with his long raven hair and in contrast to his pale skin. He glanced up, grinning at Jean.

Jean looked quickly away, eyes back on his hands, heart thudding quickly in his mouth.

He'd thought all of them had been killed-? But… well there you go. One would always slither through the ringer. Which one was he? He had one out of seven to get the name right.

The barstool next to him scratched on the hard wooden floor, indicating that someone had joined him in his salute to silence. His skin began to crawl unpleasantly, because that was just the sort of reaction these creatures sent out.

"Hello, Jean."

For some odd reason, the voice reminded him of listening to wind chimes. "Didn't know we where on first name basses," he decided on growling, casting a side ways look at the hooded boy.

"Well things get a lot easier when you don't have a last name," he soothed, leaning on one bent arm, staring intently at Jean.

Jean had always been a strong believer in the bubble theory.

You see, people have an invisible bubble around them, thus indicated where their personal space started and ended. Of course the boy didn't have much respect in the bubble theory, making Jean lean right back to stop him breathing down his neck.

Hybrid. Alien. Homunculus. Jean knew it would come back to him. Colonel Edward had had a picture of him tucked away in one of his many research books. The dark, spiky hair and headband had given it away. The shape shifter Envy.

Here where things got a little… hairy. Most people categorised these beings as _Homunculi _a human that's not a human, born from wicked thoughts, and the wrath of God. The seven Homunculi named after the Seven Deadly Sins. Yet true Homunculi have to be born through someone. These beings where created through someone's soul, with the use of the illusive, Philosopher's Stone.

Jean rubbed his head. It hurt just thinking about it.

Instead… "I hope I'm really drunk, or I fell down asleep in a gutter somewhere, because this can't be happening."

"Oh, don't be like that," Envy laughed, wrapping his knuckles on the bar, ordering for a drink. "One is normally at a bar to have some fun- but here you are all alone. Makes you think you might be _missing _someone."

"Like you woul-wuh-wuh…" Jean's voice seemed to whisper off to nothing, finally turning back round. He became aware of everything. Each sound, breath, bump of a body, and he was pretty sure there was something wet sliding down his thigh.

Staring at ghosts tended to make you freak a little.

"What?"

Then it was over. Envy's made Roy's lips smile cruelly. "You dropped your drink, Jean," ah. So that's why he was feeling wet.

"You sick fuck."

"Ouch. How can you say that to this face?" Envy purred, getting way to close than Jean would have liked.

"Clever of you. Putting on a face of a dead man in a bar," Jean decided to play it safe. Find out what he wanted. And try not to start crying, or hugging him, because that, was, _not _Roy.

"Amazing thing about bars. People get drunk. People do stupid things. People forget. Not you, Jean. You're going to remember this. Aren't you?" Roy's face smiled pleasantly, but Jean could see the cat like slits in his dark eyes, the small tip off that this man wasn't human.

"What do you want?" haven't I suffered enough? Does God want to damn me for the rest of my life? Why are you doing this to me?

"I want company. You see Jean, you and your fucking pack of military dogs killed my brothers and sisters," Envy hissed, placing a hand on his thigh. It wasn't a gesture of intimacy. It was a threat. Slowly, Jean watched his hand turn into claws. Envy wasn't stupid. He couldn't throw Jean across the room wearing Roy's face. Attract too much attention.

"Don't even start. You motherless scum don't even have feelings," Jean growled, keeping a very careful eye on that hand. One squeeze, and his femur would be crushed to oblivion.

"Gluttony _cried _Havoc," Envy snarled, obviously done with being friendly. "Cried when you're precious Mustang tore Lust into the ground. What does that tell you?"

"Tells me that Roy didn't do his job right."

"She could have paralysed you."

"Lucky for me she didn't. Why are you telling me this?"

Envy looked away, removing his hand and curling it around his mug, looking moody. Jean caught himself from almost smiling. That expression was so Roy.

"Because... I'm lonely, I guess," the sin admitted, and with Roy's hollow voice, Jean might have believed him. Might. "And I suppose you think it's a load of bull. Homunculi connect with their siblings. We share the same father as any human. The same blood. When one of us dies, or betrays us, it resonates with us very deeply."

"Envy, you're not going to change my mind," Jean sighed, draining the last of his drink, and stepped away from the bar.

"I could," he wheedled, stepping out into the street, following Jean. It was raining hard. Jean popped open the umbrella he had brought. He glanced back at Envy, who was slowly getting soaked through.

"What. Do. You. Want?"

It was so hard. Watching Envy use Roy's features like that. His black hair was plastered, and he was hunched like a beaten dog, onyx eyes pleading. It's not Roy, he kept telling himself. But just saying that was getting harder and harder to believe.

"Take me out."

"What. Like a date? Are you serious."

"To dinner. As mutual friends. For company. And because I'm not just doing it for myself. You need it to."

So he did. He'd taken the brat of a homunculus to the same place he and Roy had once gone too. It hadn't been prearranged. Both of them had been stood up by their dates, utterly devastated and embarrassed, Roy, like the gentleman he was, had taken Jean instead.

To be honest, Jean was rather fascinated with Envy. He could transform into anyone he had seen, he had the Philosopher's Stone running through his veins, there was so much to ask about him.

"Do you even have to eat?"

"No. My stomach can just be replenished by the Stone. But I enjoy it."

"You're wasting my money..."

For some odd reason, Envy would only use Roy's form whenever he was around Jean. Not that Jean minded, once he was over the shock, he enjoyed seeing Roy walking and talking like he'd never been shot in the first place.

But soon Jean started to realise it was becoming unhealthy. The more they meet up, the less of Envy Jean would see. Only Roy. And that was bad. If Envy asked him to do something, Jean would agree. He was so used to agreeing to whatever Roy told him to do. If Envy told Jean to throw a bomb into the middle of Central City, he probably would do it.

Envy was starting to stay more and more at his apartment. It was odd waking up in the morning to find a passed out Roy on the couch, hand dangling off one side and mouth open. Jean would walk over to him, and closely inspect the carbon copy.

He was perfect. Down to every cell in his body, you would think that this was the real article. Envy had even replicated his scent. He smelt of burning and hot ashes, after all, he was the Flame Alchemist. "Homunculus don't sleep. You can stop pretending now."

"Aw, you got me," Envy would laugh, winking open one eye, and pull Jean down in a lop side bear hug. Envy was way to open. Way to friendly and clingy. Way to Roy-ish.

Envy was a professional killer. He murdered children for fun. He started the Civil War with just one shot. He was a sin, and a bad one at that and Jean shouldn't have been messing with him.

But he was.

He couldn't help it.

As much as Envy was using Jean, Jean was just as guilty.

He wanted Envy to be Roy. He wanted to drown in him. He couldn't stop himself from wanting it. He was as bad as Envy when it came to using people. He was too far into his own hole, he couldn't start climbing out. Only dig deeper. Jean knew it was wrong. It was driving him crazy. He could picture Roy's dead spirit, hovering over Envy's shoulder, yelling at him to stop.

It wasn't just driving him into insanity. He was already there.

"Why'd you do it?" Jean wanted to know. His leg had been aching badly all day. He had finally collapsed down into the plush couch. Envy had followed suit, snuggling into his rib cage, book in hand. Jean had the vague idea that it was a book on Alchemy.

"What? You mean found you that day in the bar?" Envy guessed, flipping open a page and snorting at what he read. "Cuz I saw me in you. Both needing something. So here we are."

"Yeah. But it's not right."

"When is something ever right?" Envy challenged, rolling his dark eyes to peer up into Jean's. He put down the book. "You saw how the Elrics suffered through life. You would think the right thing God would do for them was to bless them with a happy ending. Chibi-san got shot, and Alphonse is going insane within himself. Nothing is God's will. We make our own paths in life."

"So even after all that hardship they went through, that still couldn't right the wrong? They learnt from their mistakes. Where's the Touka Kouka in that?"

"Equivalent Exchange," Envy translated. "What _is _Touka Kouka? Nothing. Just a fairy tale to tell Alchemists. Nothing is worth something else. Everything has its own value. Nothing can come close to replacing another life, or object for that matter."

"Like you, Envy," Jean said, smiling and brushing away his hair from his face. "So why are you trying so hard to replace Roy then?"

"Me? I'm not replacing Roy. You are."

"What?"

"Don't look so innocent. At first I used Mustang just to spite you. Then things started to get interesting. I can see it in your eyes, boy," Envy growled hungrily, lifting his hands and taking Jeans face and pulling him down. "-very greedy. You want him back so much, you're willing to replace him. Anything will do. Why not me? I'm game, it's my job to torment humans. But it's a two way thing. I get something from it too."

Jean tried to strain away, but Envy's grip was like lead. Roy's expression was horrible. His eyes were as silky as his voice. He was a monster waiting to burst out. "I could devour you whole if I wanted to. But I won't. I'm going to wait with you till the day you die. Haunting you. Letting you know he's never going to let you life peacefully. Oh, you'll try to kill yourself, but I won't let that happen. You're never going to escape from the guilt you feel."

Roy's face altered, and suddenly, a crack appeared in his forehead. Blood was spilling down his face, eyes growing sunken. A great hole opened up near his collar bone, exposing everything. Roy grinned through the blood, more blood running down his arms, staining his clothes. "Scream Jean."

He didn't. Instead he turned as white as a sheet, and threw up

* * *

END


End file.
